


The Butterfly Effect

by CallmeNerdy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But they're still great alright, Chrollo's hot, I literally do not know what I'm doing, Kurapika's pretty, M/M, Please Send Help, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, kurokura, okay, they probably won't love each other immediately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 22:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20217133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallmeNerdy/pseuds/CallmeNerdy
Summary: {The Butterfly Effect; derived from the concept of a devastating tornado being influenced by the innocent flaps of a butterfly's wings.}All actions have consequences, small or dire. Yet sometimes, the most insignificant of changes cause the greatest of calamities.





	1. Chapter 1; Curiosity is a Fickle Goddess

**Chapter 1 **

_'The calendar loses a precious component._

_The remaining months gather to play a threnody._

_While the eleventh moon rises,_

_The Scarlet Butterfly silently brews a storm.'_  
  
  


'_The chrysanthemum withers and falls,_

_To lie on the ground beside bloody Scarlet Eyes._

_But you will remain supreme._

_As you find that his clipped wings are as tragic as you.'_  
  
  


_'Enjoy the interlude._

_A journey awaits your wake._

_East is the direction to go._

_You will find one who will free you.'_  
  
  


**Curiosity is a fickle goddess,** a powerful force that paved the downfall of many men that succumbed to her allure. Yet despite the glowering threat that such a phenomenon presented to it's keeper, Chrollo did naught but keep it close to his mind.

Indeed, the Spider head often mused his fatal curiosity akin to a vice. Immoral to his very beliefs, yet inevitably created by the little humanity he had managed to salvage from his unkind upbringing. And much like a tin man's longing for the return of his gentle heartbeat, Chrollo revelled the rare moments when a semblance of an emotion sparks in his empty chest.

Chrollo Lucilfer was a naturally curious man, despite what his usual indifference might've suggested. So it came as no surprise that when he heard rumours of a nen fortune teller (who's predictions came terrifyingly accurate) servicing clients in the underground, he simply couldn't help himself from satiating his curiosity, even if it costed him showing vulnerability to people he barely knew.

The verses were short and sibylline. With a steady gaze, Chrollo observed the written quatrains with a composed ease. He traced the letters with a careful pace, blocking the dim yellow light that illuminated the text. His expression turned lax at the very first line.

_'The calendar loses a precious component.'_

Now Chrollo was perceptive as he was charismatic. The Spider head was observant and held a penchant for the quick deduction of texts and character. It was simply a favorable skill for a former resident of the unforgiving Meteor City. And thus it took Chrollo little to no wait before he pieced together the verse's riddle of a meaning. Although it took him longer to notice the slight ache that grasped at his heart, and then a few seconds more to feel the single drop of liquid that kissed his left cheek.

And with that, The Devil's mask of perfection gained a crack on it's porcelain walls.

A gasp was what pulled Chrollo out of his solemn daze. Forcing his eyes off of the white page, he repaired his facade as quickly as it broke. Chrollo looked up to meet the eyes of one Neon Nostrade, who stared back at him with a peculiar interest, her eyes fixated on his expression.

"My apologies," The Spider head said as he brought a hand to his cheek, a long finger touched the damp surface below his eye for all but a moment. "I was taken aback by your fortune. They are indeed accurate." _Truly... Accurate._ Chrollo forced his lips to stretch into a faint smile at the girl.

"Your eyes." Neon said in a murmur. "They looked so much like..." the girl stopped herself mid-sentence. Chrollo didn't neglect to notice how her countenance softened, a far off look in her averted attention. Even stranger, was how a smile, subtle and giddy, found its way on the fortune teller's lips. It was as if she was recalling a fond memory.

_How strange._ Chrollo's hold tightened on the book ever so slightly, _Why would one smile over a stranger's tear?_

"Even if it's not my place to ask," he closed the pages with an inaudible thud.  
"But what do my eyes remind you of?"

Placing the small book on the mahogany table, he left the fortune covered and forgotten in the meantime, pushed to the back of his mind. The question hung waiting in the air, genuine intrigue decorated his question.

Neon's pale cheeks colored a faint pink, although her serene visage remained unchanged. _"Kurapika,"_ she spoke the name with a type of endearment that Chrollo only ever read about in romance novels, an innocent fervor in her smile.

Emotions were a sentiment that Chrollo sparsely partook in; the result of his childhood depraved of any sort of affection. Growing up in Meteor City, where the youth desperately scavenged for a single slice of bread rather than yearn for childhood sweethearts or the beats of first love, the Spider Head learned to fight only for himself above everyone else.

If Chrollo knew little of love, then Romance was a complete stranger.

"Kurapika...?" He only repeated the name, yet it tasted bitter on his tongue. It was foreign, no question, a name unfamiliar to him despite his lifetime of knowing less than conventional individuals. But Chrollo couldn't help the strange feeling that built up in his gut, tensed his shoulders, and frosted his very bones. The man dare assumed that the name held significance... _but to what?_

Neon nodded, "He's one of my bodyguards." Cerulean eyes turned to refocus on him. Bright lights from the cityscape reflected on her irises, enhancing the sheer wonder that illuminated them.

"Actually," her chin rested on her hand, inquisitive was her stare. _Far too inquisitive,_ Chrollo thought. The articles he had read on the Hunter Website suggested that Neon Nostrade was spoiled and sheltered, that she was not the type to read beyond the surface level of character. If such was the case, then why was she studying him with an odd familiarity?

"You're really alike!" Neon's grin only grew wider.

"Oh?"  
  


"When I gave Pika his fortune," A pause was all he heard as Neon placed her hand on her chest. "He reacted just like you." Her eyes turned solemn, a sort of empathy weaved into the smile that never left her lips.

"You're grieving, aren't you?"  
  


Chrollo only became silent.  
  


_How could she tell?_  
  


Confusion aggravated his head, bafflement seethed and left Chrollo blank of thought. His heartbeat gradually slowed.

_How curious._

A few long seconds was what it took for him to abandon his disarray. Despite this, Chrollo made quick work of repairing the tension, faking a chuckle to rumble in his throat. It was soft and melodic, holding a certain charm to its ring, but most importantly, it was _convincing_.

"Really? How could you tell? I could've sworn that I'd hidden it quite well." His voice held a joking tone, lightheartedness forced in the spaces between. Although some truth was present in his words, Neon couldn't _possibly_ have noticed.

"Pika had the very same eyes when he read his fortune." Her voice was coated in pity when she started. Clutching her dress, the girl continued, "I asked him what he felt, since even I felt a bit confused." A dry laugh echoed next.

"He only smiled at me. Pika told me that he was only grieving. Assured me that he was okay." She reminisced with a melancholy expression, though her smile was still ever present. _Stranger._

"Tell me more about him," Chrollo practically breathed the words, low and quiet. "This 'Pika' person."

Neon only obliged,"Pika is... determined. He can be really stern with me at times, although I usually think that he's too soft to be intimidating." The flush on her cheeks intensified in color, she started to twiddle her thumbs.

"He's– passionate. Although he tries to be professional most of the time, he's really bad at hiding that he cares." Chrollo observed Neon's mannerisms with a keen eye, her averted eyes and her fiddling hands. What an emotive girl, he mused. A younger Chrollo would've envied her.

_And maybe he still does..._

"I... really admire him." Her confession was with an innocent reluctance, though it was no less sincere. She clutched the fabric that covered her chest. Chrollo supposed it was an attempt to calm her raging heartbeat.

"I see," He nodded, a symbol of understanding. How ironic it was that the man knew nothing of her emotions, nor the drive of the words she told him. "I didn't take you as the observant type."

"I never was..." Guiltless was Neon when she admitted her shortcoming. The Spider head would've found it amusing if it weren't for the complete genuineness in her voice.

"May I ask you a question?" Again, curiosity was Chrollo's only vice. He simply couldn't help himself, and took a chance at a question to quell the burning wildfire that was his wonder.

"You talk of _'Pika'_ so highly, yet you willingly went against his orders to stay away from the auction..." Chrollo's voice turned dark, a hint of menace laced his words. Hardly noticed by the unsuspecting Neon, but otherwise terrifying to a more experienced listener.

"Why?" The Spider head spoke with the intent to blame. The word was accusatory, not much different from a seasoned detective's interrogation of a criminal. It was no less mortifying.

"They weren't even his orders in the first place!" Neon justified her actions, her arms instinctively wrapped around her torso; a form of defensive body language that Chrollo recognized well.

"Besides, Pika was supposed to come with me. But Daddy sent him to attend a meeting that I apparently _couldn't _know about." Her voice cracked, Chrollo's question affected her more than he anticipated. But still, he resolved to test her reasons.

"But does that condone risking your safety?"  
  


"..." Chrollo's finale silenced the girl, who looked away from him in frustration. The Spider head would've declared this as a victory, if it weren't for an unexpected interruption.

"As much as I am flattered by your high regard of me, Lady Neon, I unfortunately have to agree with your companion." The newcomer seemed to have had an effect on Neon, who visibly stiffened in her seat. The stranger's voice contained a grace that Chrollo could only recognize as similar to his own.

_And you must be Kurapika._  
  


Chrollo smiled at the turn of events.  
  


_Curiouser and curiouser..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm... Hello?
> 
> So yeah, if anyone is reading this, which I highly doubt, this is my first actual attempt at a book! So my deepest condolences to the readers who had to suffer through my chaos of a writing style. Though I hope that the first chapter made even a bit of sense.
> 
> This is basically an AU where Kurapika actually arrives in time to interrupt Chrollo and Neon during their little date. This probably won't be an inherent romance, but more of how their Chain Bastard's and No Nen's stories become intertwined. 
> 
> Uhm, I guess I should be hospitable now.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it?
> 
> *Oh, and in case you haven't noticed... Neon just might have a crush on Kurapika. Don't blame me for liking this headcannon!


	2. Chapter 2; Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Chapter 2

**Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,** Chrollo's heard the phrase quoted a few too many times already, witnessed an abundance of fools abuse the damn thing to further some hidden agenda, – yet never had he been bothered to give _'beauty'_ a definition of his own. Granted, Chrollo seldom recognized the curves of a woman's body, nor had he ever noticed the handsomeness of another's smile. And come to think of it, he _hardly_ considered anything beautiful in the entirety of his god-forsaken childhood. But truly, how can one see beauty while stranded in near-apocalyptic conditions?

Chrollo liked to think that he never changed; that cynicism would remain the sole constant in his life built on instability. A fragile way of living perhaps, for the more sensible of minds. But a younger him, overeager and spiteful towards the world he deemed unjust, vowed to keep his roots of Meteor City, regardless of the infamy that clouded his home.

Once upon a time, Chrollo Lucilfer was obsessed with vengeance – his delusion of purpose sowed chaos into the Spider's motivations. And honest to heart, the only difference between Chrollo's past and present is the intensity of his philosophies, it's current leniency only wrought by the test of time. But rest assured, that the Spider head held no room for beauty in his life, no matter how distorted his desires may become.

_Well, _change came in anomalies.

For one, he assumed that Neon's object of affections would have been a more masculine figure, cold and stoic much like Chrollo himself. Yet instead of such a man, he was met with contradiction personified in his place.

A mere _boy._

A teenager to be exact, but a boy nonetheless.

The clothes on his back were undoubtedly foreign to Yorknew's fashion. A strange pattern was sown onto the royal blue garment, golden thread weaved into the tabard on his chest. It's style was symmetrical – traditional. Chrollo found it familiar, though he couldn't quite place why. '_Perhaps he saw it in a book? '_

Tightly shut lips did little to hide the pink that bloomed on his skin – long, curving lashes shaped the canvas of his eyes. Chrollo traced the careful slope of the boy's nose, pristine and unbroken as if untouched by the burdens of violence. It was more puzzling than anything else, honestly – how despite his delicacy, the teen's poise still exuded the carefully disciplined stance of a soldier.

_Well..._

The boy's cheeks held a youthful roundness, crowned by golden hair that barely touched the collar of his clothes. Warrior or not, such were features that seemed too delicate for his line of work, too _boy_ for a bodyguard of the Nostrade's caliber.

Though may heaven and hell damn him, Chrollo ought to admit that if this boy wasn't beautiful, he was at the very least, _really pretty._

_'And you must be Kurapika.'_

"It was unwise of you to set out on your own, especially without anyone to accompany you." _Kurapika _strided towards them, the room turned tense at the click of his shoe. Cold, viscous liquid shrouded the exposed spaces of Chrollo's skin, rippling invisible to the naked eye. Bystanders shivered at the heavy pressure – smothered by the air that felt more than paranormal. Confusion laced their clumsy grace, but of course, Chrollo knew better.

_'A Nen user.'_

"I trust that you understand your father had been worried sick. You know how dangerous it is for you to be alone outside." Kurapika's scold was only met with muteness. Chrollo somewhat pitied the girl, who was petrified still by what he mused was disbelief. The silence grew deafening as light-hearted chatter turned awkward in the space of a few seconds.

An eternity of tension passed before Neon voiced a reply.

"I-I know." Tears pooled at the corners of Neon's eyes, they glistened underneath the yellow light – she was _shaking._ Chrollo chanced a glimpse at Neon's hands, clasped together by..._ was it horror? Guilt?_ Chrollo blanked, – he couldn't tell.

_This was strange..._

Now, Chrollo always made sure to be meticulous when he scavenged for information on his targets, thank you very much. But the Hunter Website's extensive entries stated that Neon Nostrade knew not of _meekness,_ knew nothing of _apologies _– was the website inaccurate?

Chrollo doubted that, the Hunter Website is known to be the most reliable source of information in the underground yet. Then why, after all his years of successful heists, was the HW failing him now? With the information of a shaking teenage girl of all creatures?

Gunmetal hues weren't the only ones to notice her tremble.

Kurapika halted his steps, something _chimed_ underneath his sleeve. Chrollo's eyes darted to the boy's right hand, catching a glimpse of what seemed like the glint of metal, coy and dangerous, before disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Chrollo's hands froze cold.

"_Melody..._" It was a stressed plea, barely above a whisper – Kurapika turned away from their table. Chrollo observed him, following his movements with a curious scrutiny. An averted gaze and bitten lip suggested hesitation on his part, the expression was awkward on his countenance.

_Melody_ nodded, and with a swift step, she turned her gaze to Neon. "Mr. Nostrade gave us orders to take you back to your hotel room. We should be leaving right now." She was a stout lady, Kurapika's companion, – far more approachable than the former. Her voice was soft and motherly – a tone completely _alien_ to Chrollo's kind, as well as a stark contrast to her partner's icy grace.

Kurapika extended his hand towards Neon, beckoning for his charge to take it. All for naught as Neon sat stiff in her seat. With a quivering lip, she stared blankly ahead, squinting to rid of tears.

Concern weaved itself into Kurapika's frown, he let his arm falter. The teen heaved a shallow sigh before placing a hand on Neon's shoulder – feather-like and fragile. The girl slowly looked up with swollen eyes, and Kurapika gifted her the subtlest calm of his touch.

"Please, don't waste your tears."

She blinked once, twice, and a few more times before wiping the salty liquid on her cheeks. Neon's trembling ceased almost instantaneously.

"I... I'm sorry..."

Kurapika's expression moved slightly, his eyes softer and his lips more lax. It was a small change, – barely noticed by the less observant. Chrollo would've thought his eyes had been fooling him, but they never once did in the past.

"Please let us return to your hotel room. The auction is an unsafe place to be right now."

It was after the last word left his lips that Kurapika finally caught the gaze of Chrollo; his glare was sharper than the stray bullet shrapnel that littered the grounds of Meteor City. Chrollo looked back with a flame of his own.

"What is your business." And within a blink of an eye, Kurapika's softness ended it's reign of brevity. The sudden change brought amusement to Chrollo's lips.

"My apologies. See, I've only just arrived in Yorknew, and yet I already seem to be lost. I would really appreciate some help."

There were hidden intentions below his words; a danger in his smile. The man's voice was baritone and honeyed, almost sincere – but his eerily calm eyes told of a different agenda. Kurapika was no fool, he'd witnessed his own fair share of ulterior motives. Yet despite his confidence in his own wit and capabilities, unease built up in Kurapika's stomach, twisting and pulling in a plight of odd... _significance._ His distrust of the man only increased. Nevertheless, he relented.

_Something is... wrong._

"Melody, please escort Lady Neon. I need to have a word with her... _friend._"

"K-kurapika—" Neon said before Kurapika interrupted.

"It'll be fine, Neon."

Those were his final words before Melody ushered the girl out with hurried steps.

"What do you want." Kurapika's aura turned arctic, engulfing Chrollo in a shivering breeze. It was hostile; _suffocating,_ – Chrollo clenched the fabric of his trousers. It was common sense to create a shroud of Nen for protection in situations like this, – It was a simple technique. Every sane Nen-user knew to use it.

But Chrollo wasn't sane; far from it. Releasing his Zetsu would reveal his identity, and the Spider head didn't want that.

'_No, not yet...'_

After all, it wasn't the first time that Chrollo risked peril for the sake of his curiosity. Although never had he expected _this_ being the reason for his endeavors.

Now that they were face to face, Kurapika's exoticness was undeniable. Though even beauty came not without its own share of faults.

Chrollo was all too familiar with the boy's expression. Far too acquainted with the stress and strain that manifested as dark circles under his eyes, the skin sunken and dull from deprivation. Fatigue was present in the creases of Kurapika's eyelids, heavy as if to lull him into slumber. On his brow was the same stoicism that Chrollo used as a mask of leadership as the Spider's head. Although Chrollo thought it seemed forced on the boy's face – too unnatural for his youth.

_'Delicately dangerous,' _Chrollo's gaze was nothing short of judging – piercing, cold and analytic. '_An oxymoron in his own right.'_

Yes, the boy was exotic, but what truly captured Chrollo was not the colorful attire that he donned, the tiredness of his poise, nor was it his deceivingly feminine visage.

It was his eyes.

They were grey; an artificial monochrome that was a far cry from Chrollo's own hues. As a master of disguise himself, Chrollo recognized the unnatural pigment of the lenses in a heartbeat — saw the uniform color created only by mass production. A peculiar accessory to wear, given that Kurapika obviously had no intentions to hide his immediate identity, but the Spider head was sure it was not without a purpose.

Despite the forced indifference and cheap colored lenses, wide, cat-like eyes still managed to betray every emotion that the blond tried desperately to hide. The dull grey did nothing to disguise the passion that seethed and demanded for liberation.

Kurapika's gaze was enough to winter the bones of Chrollo's spine.

"Charmer. I thought you'd be one for niceties." Chrollo's grin was on it's own, charismatic, if not sly.

Kurapika frowned, "Niceties are irrelevant when a potential predator is running amuck." He glared at Chrollo, crossing his arms, venom dripped off his accusation.

Amusement bubbled in Chrollo's chest. "How presumptuous, what led you to that conclusion?" He rested his chin on his hand for support, playful indifference built his posture. Chrollo hid the growing twist on his lips.

"Perhaps the fact that a complete stranger approached a lone girl at a mall and _so graciously_ offered to take her to a _very _ shady auction?" A sardonic tone decorated each emphasis – Kurapika clicked his tongue.

"I was simply being a good Samaritan." The sentence left his mouth so smoothly, an almost teasing undertone coated Chrollo's tongue.

Kurapika huffed, "You're... not taking this seriously..." His voice was strained by exasperation, almost succumbing to whispers if not for the hostility in his eyes. Chrollo watched it bloom.

"Not when dozens of people can become eye-witnesses to private matters, – No, I am not." It was a bit of a jest, though Chrollo told no lie. Kurapika stiffened at the realization, his frown deepened by the glares that burned through his back. The boy's hands formed into fists, a familiar_clink _ reverberated under his white sleeve.

Chrollo bit the inside of his cheek, tilting his head ever so slightly. His gaze locked onto Kurapika's hand, – _What was he hiding?_

With gritted teeth and begrudging fists, Kurapika hissed his reply,

"Follow me."

Kurapika turned on his heel, and for a mere second, Chrollo peeked a glimpse of silver iron on porcelain skin.

'_Chains...? '_

\--------

"Aren't you being too harsh on her?" The question echoed through the hallway, reflecting off of the embellished walls. Chrollo stared into the straight of the corridor, it seemed almost endless,– completely _deserted._

"What?" Kurapika turned to Chrollo, – the absurdity of his question twisted bafflement into his brow.

"You're leading Neon on." Chrollo spoke carefully, all so sincere – though he couldn't shake the feeling that he only fed gasoline to dazzling hellfire.

Kurapika scoffed, "Lady Neon and I's relationship is strictly professional." incredulity stained his cheeks a light scarlet.

"_Is that so?"_

No words were sent his way, – a sour scowl was Kurapika's only response. A chuckle rumbled from Chrollo's throat, low and somewhat mirthful. He leaned his weight on the marble walls, the stone's cold seeped through his suit. "You know, for a bodyguard, you're quite the oblivious creature."

Kurapika's glare was as sharp as it was poisonous, but it did naught to falter Chrollo's grace.

The blond brought his cold gaze to a wall instead, "I suppose that such a pointless inquiry is not the only reason you've resolved to talk to me?" he said through gritted teeth.

Chrollo smiled.

"A bit severe, but you are correct." Chrollo slid his hands into his pockets, feeling a circular trinket into his palm. The sensation of cold metal frosted his fingertips as he traced the twelve grooves on the metal, – his gaze never once left Kurapika. "I was simply wondering, why did you join Nostrade's bodyguards?"

Kurapika's eyes widened a fraction.

"So you do know of her." His voice held more disbelief than resentment, though an accusatory melody still tainted Kurapika's tongue.

"That's not an answer."

Kurapika sucked a sharp inhale, "It's–... none of your business." Chrollo didn't miss the slight falter of his words, nor the grim undertone of his voice.

The blond returned his glare to him, "Besides, I doubt that you have no ulterior motive for approaching Neon at the mall tonight, given that her services are notoriously coveted throughout the underground." Kurapika paused, an air of tension.

"And you honestly reek of it."

Chrollo practically tasted the acid in Kurapika's judgement, – bitter and insidious, it burned his throat. The corners of his lips lifted to a playful grin.

"Touché, Pika. You've caught me red-handed." Chrollo raised his hands in mock surrender, – Kurapika winced at the nickname.

He huffed, frustration rasped his throat. "Your motives are unclear to me," Kurapika turned to fully face him, "What do you really want?" his voice turned low, – _menacing._

Chrollo straightened his posture, "You say that as if you're not a mystery yourself." he approached the teen with a painfully slow step. Kurapika was indeed graceful, – he held an impeccable posture, becoming of a leader. The teen brimmed with authoritative aura, he held his head higher than he was tall.

But Chrollo towered over him, in both height and intimidation.

"I... beg your pardon?" Kurapika almost stuttered. Chrollo leaned down, precariously close to his face, – Kurapika stubbornly stood his ground.

"No sane man would become a hunter without a motive," Chrollo breathed. His stare was calculating, – though oddly enough, it wasn't as icy as Kurapika expected it to be. The blonde swallowed, the touch of danger shook his bones. Chrollo spoke again, "And judging by what Neon has told me, I assume that your motives are quite... noble." Kurapika's eyes narrowed at his statement.

"Aren't they?" He challenged him; a faux innocent tone lined with cheek and ease.

The skin of Kurapika's forehead creased with animosity, "You... You have some nerve producing such assumptions–"

"–But I'm correct, aren't I?" Chrollo cut him off. Kurapika's silence served as a peculiar satisfaction for him, – Chrollo claimed it as a victory.

"Come to think of it, it's only common sense to think that the close employees of the Nostrade's took up the job because of a... _hidden agenda."_ He started, – finally leaning away from the glaring teen. Chrollo covered his lips in thought.

"What are you suggesting?..." There was a hint of _fear_ in Kurapika's question, – his iron composure wavered, as did his voice. Gray eyes gleamed with a sort of alarm and _dread._ It striked Chrollo as odd, to say the very least.

"The Nostrade's notoriety stem not only from Neon's fortunes, but her strange fascination for... human trophies." Chrollo clawed through his mind, – scavenging for a clue, _any clue,_ to solve the eerie sense of significance that burned his chest. He closed his eyes, "In fact, Light Nostrade only participates in the auction to purchase merchandise for his daughter." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Chrollo recalled Shalnark's detailed ramblings of the Nostrade's prowess and background – retrieved every detail about the Yorknew auction he could muster.

"I was given no order to participate in the auction." Kurapika hid the ire in his tone quite well, – if not for the chafe that tensed his fists and the frustration that painted his eyes.

"Yet." Chrollo opened his eyes to meet a pristine white ceiling glaring back.

_Clink!_

_'...'_ Chrollo stayed silent for all but a moment, – the sound sent him to disarray as realization tore his mind.

_'Chains... Chain-user.'_

It all finally clicked together.

"If I remember correctly, there are five significant human trophies being auctioned this year..." Chrollo spoke thoughtfully, – Kurapika sensed the change in his temperament; slight and unsettling. He took a careful step back.

"A tissue used by a famous celebrity, the mummy of Princess Corco," Chrollo listed, what could be described as _eagerness _pushed his step. He focused intently on Kurapika's eyes, – scrutiny piecing the puzzle together.

"the brain of a deceased genius, the severed hand of a serial killer..."_ Strange attire, colored lenses, hidden chains, human trophies..._ All the pieces were later out in front of him, beckoning to be solved.

_Closer and closer..._

Chrollo needed to confirm one last thing.

"And the eyes of the eradicated Kurta clan."

Cold metal kissed his body as soon as the sentence left his mouth.

\------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I wasn't lying when I tagged "Slow Updates." School sucks, but really, I'm just being picky with my writing.  
And thus, expect a lot of editing over the course of the week.
> 
> So about this... I headcannon Kurapika being *really* pretty, and can you honestly blame me? I keep fangirling about Kurapika and Chrollo should too.
> 
> Well, I actually have way too many headcannons about the chain pair, so I just might make a chapter dedicated to that.
> 
> Mildly interesting fact:
> 
> Though the tissue used by a celebrity and the mummy of Princess Corco are actual merchandise that exist in the HxH universe, the brain of a deceased genius and the severed hand of a serial killer are references to real life and Anime respectively. The former referencing the preserved brain of Albert Einstein, (I just thought it was interesting) and the latter being a... Jojo reference...


End file.
